


The Day Delighted

by Sarahtoo



Series: Phrack Fucking Friday [15]
Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Early morning sexytimes, Established Phrack, F/M, Phrack Fucking Friday, pff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-01
Updated: 2017-12-01
Packaged: 2019-02-09 00:37:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12876447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarahtoo/pseuds/Sarahtoo
Summary: Phryne is woken early in the morning - not her favorite time of the day - and she's forced to seduce Jack to make herself feel better about it.





	The Day Delighted

**Author's Note:**

> The title comes from this quote: Morning is when the wick is lit. A flame ignited, the day delighted with heat and light, we start the fight for something more than before. ~Jeb Dickerson

Phryne woke to the pressure of lips on her forehead, but she didn’t open her eyes—it was far too early to be awake, especially since she’d been out late on a case the night before. She lay in bed, eyes closed, listening to the soft rustling of her lover gathering up his clothes for the day. He was humming softly, a trait that she found endearing; it was almost enough to make her open her eyes, but her muscles were in that in-between state of sleeping and waking, and the effort seemed too much. The humming moved farther away and the pipes creaked softly as the water in the shower went on. 

Her mind wandered and she dozed, visions of rain creating stories behind her eyelids, dreams in which she opened the door to find Jack there, soaked to the skin. She reached for him, and the rain shut off like a spigot; they both looked up, bewildered, and Jack’s mouth moved, his voice a low rumble, his lips curling into a tiny smile. Phryne strained to understand what he said, and woke, opening her eyes on shrouded daylight and the sounds of Jack in the bathroom, getting ready for the day.

With a sigh, she rose, leaving the bedcovers rumpled. She’d be back there before too long, one way or the other. Wandering over to the door between their bedroom and the bath, she breathed deeply; the steam from the shower and the scent of Jack’s soap wafted on the air, a fragrance almost as welcome as coffee would be. Stopping in the doorway, she leaned a shoulder against the jamb, wrapping her arms around herself and surveying the scene.

Jack stood at the washbasin, a creamy white towel wrapped around his waist; his back was a golden stretch of skin scattered with a few stray droplets of water. The towel outlined the globes of his ass faithfully and clung to his strong thighs, ending at his knees. His calves repeated the gold of his shoulders, his narrow feet standing strong against the small rug beside the sink. He was humming again as he frothed shaving soap in a copper cup; she admired the way his arms flexed with the motion. From where she stood, she couldn’t see his face in the mirror, but his hair, wet from the shower, fell softly over his forehead.

A tender smile crept over her face as she watched him brush the soap across his morning stubble, the bay rum scent drifting across to her, mingling with the spicy fragrance of his shampoo on the warm, damp air. His shoulders shifted as he lifted the razor, stretching his neck upward, his eyes on the mirror as he guided it across his skin. The slight rasp as it did its job shivered across her skin, a percussive punctuation to his humming, and she felt her nipples bead in response.

Blinking slowly, she shifted, watching as his large hands delicately navigated past his Adam’s apple and beneath the sharp line of his jaw. When he pulled the razor away to rinse it in the water of the basin, she stepped forward, sliding her hands around his waist and pressing a kiss to his shoulder.

“Good morning, love,” he said, glancing at her. She could see him in the mirror now, the lower half of his face obscured by white, his blue eyes warm as they met hers.

“Mmm,” she said, snuggling close to his back and taking a deep breath of his skin. “You smell good.”

He chuckled a little and lifted the razor to clear away a strip of the lather, leaving smooth skin behind. “I have to keep up with you,” he murmured, swishing the razor through the water and repeating the action. “You always smell good.”

“You are biased,” she said, flattening her hands against his belly.

“Well, maybe a little.” He slid the razor carefully across his other cheek, his motions economical and easy with long practice. “How did the investigation go last night?” He always avoided calling her break-ins anything but “investigation”—partly for his own plausible deniability, and, she was certain, partly because he knew it amused her.

“Nothing worth talking about, really,” she sighed, tilting her head to make sure he had enough room to shave the side nearest her. “Though I did find Mr. Benedict’s sketchbook. He’s a rather talented portraitist, but that has nothing to do with whether he’s helping himself to the household funds.” She sighed. “I’ll have to take another tack, I suppose.” Squeezing him lightly, she let her hands wander over his stomach and chest. “How was your evening?”

“Uneventful—book and then bed. You would have been quite disappointed.” He lifted a warm, damp towel and wiped the shaving cream remainders off before applying aftershave. The breath he sucked through his teeth told her he’d nicked himself lightly somewhere, though she didn’t see any blood.

“I am certain I would have livened up your evening,” she said, letting her hands stray to the diagonal furrows that ran between the muscles at his hips and belly and arrowed down to his groin.

“I’m sure you would have,” he agreed, turning to wrap his arms around her. She took the opportunity to slip her hands under the edge of his towel and palm his bottom.

“I need to get to work, Miss Fisher,” he murmured as she kneaded him. She could feel that he wasn’t unaffected by her closeness; the evidence was rising against her stomach.

“But you woke me up, and now you have to pay the price,” she whispered, pushing up on her toes to brush his lips with hers.

“That’s blackmail,” he murmured, his own hands busily sliding around her waist, his long fingers drawing small circles across the upper curves of her bottom.

“Such an ugly word,” she said, flexing her hands to loosen the knot of his towel. He glanced down as it fell with a soft _whump_ to the floor. “For such a simple suggestion.”

“Simple, you say,” Jack breathed as he stroked a hand over her breast, the silk of her nightgown chafing lightly across her hardened nipple.

“Absolutely,” Phryne agreed. “What I want won’t take long at all.”

“Are you sure we’re doing it right, then?” His eyes laughed into hers as he kissed her, his tongue slipping between her lips.

Phryne’s hands slid up his stomach and over his chest to wind around his neck, and she gave a small hop, her mouth never leaving his. He caught her, his hands beneath her thighs, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, feeling the hard length of him pressing at the sensitive flesh between her thighs.

“I’ll only take a minute, Jack,” she whispered. “I wouldn’t want to make you late.”

He laughed, a low, dark sound, and strode with her into the bedroom. Putting first one knee and then the other up onto the bed, he slowly let her down; Phryne didn’t release his hips, hitching her sex closer as he caught the edge of her nightgown and pushed it up under her arms, baring her body to his gaze. He straightened, his hands covering her breasts, and Phryne stretched, her arms above her head as she arched into his touch.

“Protection?” The word was a growl, and she raised her heavy eyelids to look down her body at him.

The picture he made was spellbinding. Strong muscle, his hardened cock peeking above her thighs, his arms tense as he plumped her breasts and played with her nipples, his face intent.

“Take care of,” she murmured, “I was hoping you’d still be awake when I got home.”

He flashed a small smile and shifted his hips, one hand stroking down her stomach to align himself with her body. 

“Wait, Jack,” Phryne blurted, and he stopped, his eyes concerned. 

“Phryne?”

“You just shaved,” she said. 

He nodded, his expression confused.

“It would be a shame to waste those smooth cheeks, that’s all.” Phryne propped herself up on her elbows and loosened her legs around his waist. She smiled at the dawning comprehension in Jack’s eyes.

“I thought this was meant to be quick, so that I wouldn’t be late for work,” he said, tilting his head at her, his blue eyes laughing.

“Well, it doesn’t need to be _that_ quick, does it?” Phryne batted her eyelashes at him, prompting a bark of laughter.

“I suppose, if it’s something you need, I could be a little late.” He shrugged, his mouth twitching.

“Oh, I _need_ it, Jack,” she said, exaggerating the word as she slid her hands up his arms, her nails dragging slightly against his skin.

Jack kept his eyes on hers as he bent forward to lay his face against her breasts, brushing his cheeks across her skin. Phryne bit her lip at the sensation, and at the thought that he’d be leaving a remnant of his scent behind. Her fingers gripped at his biceps as he took her nipple into his mouth, sucking strongly; she hitched a leg up higher behind him, her calf lying across the small of his back, sliding the damp flesh of her sex against his cock. With a wordless growl, Jack moved to her other breast, rubbing his smooth cheeks against her skin. He bypassed her nipple this time, fastening his mouth to the soft underside of her breast and holding her eyes as he sucked her flesh into his mouth. Phryne sucked in a breath at the sensation, knowing that he’d leave a bruise and finding it impossible to regret.

“Jack,” she gasped, one hand moving to the back of his head to hold him in place. His hair was damp and cool, sliding softly between her fingers, and Phryne arched her hips against his hardness again, loving the pressure and the click of moisture as their bodies rocked together.

He dropped his eyes from hers, moving down her belly, brushing his cheeks against her skin as he bent. Before long, his hands were on her thighs, pressing them apart to let him move his cock away from her heat. Phryne whimpered at the loss of sensation, but as he caressed the insides of her thighs with his newly shaven skin, she sighed in anticipation.

Jack’s mouth on her body was something she’d imagined before they’d become lovers, but nothing she’d considered had ever lived up to the reality of him. He still managed to surprise her with his enthusiasm and with the facility of his tongue. This time did not disappoint. Jack rolled his lips inward and brushed his cheeks over the tender skin of her labia before using his thumbs to open her up and bringing his tongue into play. Phryne writhed and gasped as he licked her clit into his mouth, suckling softly to urge it out of its little hood. The pressure of his tongue to the underside of that point—he’d learned that direct contact was just a little too much, most of the time—was perfect, and he fluttered the tip of his tongue as he slid a finger into her body.

Phryne’s hands moved to her breasts, squeezing strongly to feel the ache of the small bruise he’d left there; her cries of pleasure were soft and wordless, and Jack lifted his head slightly, blowing a breath across her clit, two fingers now sliding slickly within her.

“God, just look at you,” he muttered, before dropping his head to fasten his mouth on the fleshy part of her inner thigh. He sucked hard there, and Phryne arched, the pinch of pain as he bruised her again combining with the pleasure of his hands and her own.

“Jack, please!” Her voice broke as she said the words, and Jack surged up between her thighs, setting his cock at her entrance. Phryne reached up to bring his face to hers, her mouth avid on his, the taste of her own juices on his tongue sending a thrill through her.

With a groan, Jack pushed, and the stretch of her tissues as he embedded himself inside her sent Phryne flying. The orgasm rippled through her, her hand in his hair gripping hard and her legs clasping him around her.

“Fuck,” Jack whispered, holding himself still while her body came apart.

When her shaking stopped, she opened her eyes to see Jack, his cock still deep within her and his eyes on her face. A satisfied smile curved her lips, and she watched Jack’s eyes flick to her mouth. 

“That look,” he said, pulsing his hips against her, “is one that I never get tired of.”

Phryne lifted her head slightly to cover his mouth with hers again, her tongue sliding against his as she flexed her thighs, pulling him closer still.

“I’m sure that if you exert yourself, you’ll see it again,” she murmured against his mouth, her hips beginning to move against his.

“Oh, you think so?”

“Mmm, I do,” she gasped as he pulled out slightly, then slid back in. “I really, really do.”

“Well, then, I’m happy to oblige.” He kissed her again, his mouth forceful against hers, and then pushed away, grasping her hips to keep her with him as he settled his feet on the floor beside the bed. Phryne squeaked out a laugh as he dragged her across the bed and then gasped as he began to move.

He cupped his hands beneath her hips, holding her slightly above the bed as he withdrew and then pushed home again, slowly at first, then gaining speed. Phryne let her knees fall wide to give him more room to move, glorying in the repeated penetration. She raised her hands over her head, grasping at the sheets, still rumpled from when she’d risen, and watched Jack’s face through half-closed eyes as sensation rocked her body.

Jack’s eyebrows were lowered with concentration, the lines between them drawn deeply; he’d dropped his head to watch what he was doing. His mouth worked in silent words as his hips slewed against hers. She loved the color that rose to his cheeks when they made love, and the way he loved the sight of his cock moving inside her body. His growing pleasure was evident in the grip on her hips and the drag of his cock inside her, and Phryne felt a second climax building. 

“God, Phryne, I…” Jack climbed onto the bed, his knees pushing her thighs to make room; he laid himself over her, his fingers tangling in the fabric of her nightgown as he slid his hands under her shoulders and began to thrust again. This time, each time he bottomed out inside her, he ground his hips against hers, and the sensation drew small mewling cries from her. 

Not for the first time, Phryne wished she had a mirror over the bed—she imagined that the image of her pale limbs splayed under his golden ones as his buttocks hollowed with each thrust of his hips would be a beautiful one. Just the version in her head was enough to have her gripping his hair and his back, his name a chant on her lips.

Jack ducked his head to her neck, and she could hear the huffing of his breath as he pounded within her. His hair smelled clean with a hint of sweat and she buried her nose in it—she loved the scent of his pomade, but this Jack, the one that the outside world never saw, was her favorite. He wore none of his daily armor, and she loved him all the more for his vulnerability.

With a groan, Jack reached one hand down to change the angle of her hips as his thrusts became more erratic; he fastened his mouth to her neck, and Phryne felt him begin to suck. Phryne knew that she’d need to cover this bruise carefully for the next few days, but she couldn’t bring herself to mind as he muffled his shout of release against her skin, releasing the suction to bite softly into the muscle at the base of her neck. 

The stutter of his hips and the heat of his seed within her was enough to bring her to a breaking point, and the realization that his shout had been her name tipped her over. Phryne’s stomach muscles contracted with the force of her orgasm, drawing Jack’s cock even farther inside; her nails bit into his back and the back of his neck as the tremors shook her and she held him, anchored by the weight of his body and secure in the knowledge that he would not let her fly apart.

As their bodies relaxed, Jack pressed soft kisses to her shoulder and neck, soothing the place his teeth had dented her skin with a gentle swipe of his tongue. Phryne stroked his back, feeling the divots where her nails had gripped him, and turned her head to take his earlobe between her lips, loving the soft growl and seemingly uncontrolled pulse of his hips against hers that the action evoked.

“You are a dangerous woman,” Jack murmured against her skin, his hand on her hip stroking down her thigh and back up again.

“Only in the wrong hands,” she murmured, pressing a kiss behind his ear.

Raising his head, Jack looked down at her, the love on his face open and clear. “I’ll have to come up with an explanation for why I’m late.”

“Just tell them I distracted you.” Phryne stroked her hands down his back to palm the round curves of his ass and squeeze. 

“Oh, I’m certain they’ll guess that.” His chuckle made his stomach shake against hers, a tiny earthquake. Lifting a hand, he touched the mark he’d left on her neck. “You’ll need a scarf, I’m afraid,” he murmured.

“A small price to pay, inspector. Besides,” she lifted her head to kiss him softly. “I rather like it.”

He angled his head to look at her sideways, a look that said he was aware that she liked it… sometimes. And he was right—if it had interfered with her wardrobe choices for something important, she might have objected. But right now, she liked it. She liked the other two even more.

“I really do have to go,” he said, and kissed her once more before pulling away. 

As he moved toward the bathroom, Phryne sighed and sat up, pulling her nightgown down and scooting off the bed to go in search of a wet flannel of her own. She didn’t actually need to be up yet, and a few more hours of sleep would do her nicely. Surely Jack wouldn’t mind if she cleaned up alongside him before she went back to bed. And worst case, he could be just a _little_ later.

 


End file.
